


Icarus, Fallen

by patentpending



Series: 13 Days of no-longer Halloween [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Morality | Patton Sanders, Demon Logic | Logan Sanders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: Logan is an incredibly successful demon, able to sway any human to his will.  That is, until he’s pitched up against the angel Patton.





	Icarus, Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Injury, demons, murder of a minor character, brief mention of suicide

A fallen angel doesn’t lose its wings, exactly. They do not wither away and rot, skin and sinew melting away to reveal bone, then dust.

Instead, the wings burn.

Logan had screamed when he fell, eons and eons before humans walked the Earth.  His wings tightened around him, trying to protect him, but the speed had caught them ablaze.  They lit up with hellfire, feathers disintegrating and skin underneath warping and crackling.  He landed a cast-away, a monster with burned wings as tough as leather and twice as thick.

Logan coughed the ash from his lungs, wincing, and looked around to see what would one day come to be called Earth.  He pulled himself to his feet, tentatively trying to flex his wings.  They howled in protest.  A choked cry caught in his throat, and he froze.

A breeze traveled over the desolate plane, carrying with it the stench of sulfur and Logan’s instructions.   _Find your human, and wait._

Logan looked out over the nothing that stretched as far as the eye could see, and he began to walk.

 

 

There were a string of humans, a string of souls won and a string of accolades earned.  Logan was ruthlessly good at his job, slicing down souls and running his fingers over their blackened hearts.  His humans do not suffer; on the contrary, they  _thrive._ Bankers and innovators and billionaires and kings and rulers - all success takes is a certain disregard for morality.  He lures them with whispers of glory and promises of fame, and he watches with satisfaction as they become their own undoing.

He buys a trench coat and wraps up what once were his wings, burying his past behind him until he is nothing but a tempter, a hellspawn, the devourer of souls - a demon.

It’s cosmic chess, and he’s yet to lose a game.

That is, until he is assigned to Thomas.

The problem with Thomas is that he’s so infuriatingly  _good._  He refuses to take the easy way out, the simplest and most logical solutions failing to tempt him if they mean hurting someone else.  He becomes successful, yes, but not because he’s taking any of Logan’s advice.

Logan is whispering in Thomas’s ear, purring promises and whispering of rewards that will come to him if only he skips out on helping a friend, just this once.

Thomas starts to apologize to his ‘Joan’, licking his lips and concocting an excuse, when Logan sees a flash of white out of the corner of his eye.  All it takes is the softest whispering of feathers, and Thomas is smiling again, laughing and promising to help Joan out with moving.

Rage slashes Logan’s face open for a moment before he is calm again.  He exhales, sending out breath hellfire hot, and he smiles, sharp.  He notices a shimmering spot of white on the deep oaken floors, and he picks it up, twirling the iridescent feather in his clawed fingers.

It shirks from his touch, dissolving into dust as soon as he holds it up to inspect.  Logan chuckles, eyes flashing like glowing embers.  Finally, after all these years, he’s found it:

A worthy opponent.

 

 

Logan sees his rival more and more often, a flash of light here, the whisper of wings there, the sickening feel of positivity and happiness in the air somewhere else.  The angel has noticed him as well, he’s made sure of that.

Logan scorches Thomas’s walls with hellfire, invisible to all but the divine.  He floods the house with sinister warmth, just enough to be called cozy by the unsuspecting.  He intensifies his attacks, watching with satisfaction as Thomas’s wealth and status increase.  Really, he doesn’t understand all the fuss the angel is kicking up.  This is all for Thomas’s own good.

All he wants is for Thomas to be successful, which is why he’s leaning over the man as he sits outside on a park bench, murmuring persuasively in his ear that no one will notice if he just borrows an idea that Talyn had.  Really, it’s a good idea, and the whole concept will just go over so much better if he doesn’t correct people when they assume it’s his.

Logan glows with hellfire and satisfaction when he sees Thomas weakening, fortitude breaking down.  The demon intensifies his attacks, layering his persuasion will all the allure of temptation.  

“So” - a cheerful voice startles the demon away from his task -  _“you’re_  the one who’s been causing such a fuss.”

Logan whips around, fangs bared and claws extended, but the angel looks unperturbed.  He sits on a fence, so blindingly beautiful and radiant that Logan’s eyes ache to look upon him.  His wings, massive and breathtakingly gorgeous, fan out behind him, blotting out the very sun with their brilliance.  He tilts his head, masses of golden curls spilling to the side, and smiles.  “I haven’t meet very many of you demons,” he confides, swinging his legs childishly.  “Are they all as strong as you?”

Logan  ****narrows his ember eyes, snarling.  “No. I am the strongest being you will ever face, angel.”  He spits the word like a curse.  “So you would be wise to-”

“You’re seriously buff.”  The angel interrupts him, a grin spreading across his freckled face.

Foreboding creeps across Logan, raising his hackles.  For some reason, he is so terribly afraid. 

The angel continues, “You must really… exorcise a lot.”  He doubles over laughing, the sound ringing out like so many heavenly bells.

Logan instantly decides that he hates him.  

“That would be counterproductive to my entire existence,” he says stiffly.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was rather busy-”

“Trying to get our little guy to do a big no-no?”  The angel interrupts him for the second time in as many minutes, and Logan seethes.  “Sorry, but he’s already decided to give Talyn their due credit.”  The angel smiles, and Logan suddenly sees the eons of time hiding behind those blue eyes.

“How could you?”  Logan snaps.  “How is Thomas supposed to get anywhere if he persists in allowing other people hoard all the laudations?”

The angel shrugs, unconcerned.  “Our Thomas is a good kiddo.”  His eyes flash, and Logan instinctively takes a few steps back.  “You’d do well to remember that.”  Then the angel smiles again, and Logan feels foolish.  “I’ll be seeing you around, Logan!”

Logan growls.  “How do you know my name?”

The angel just laughs, flapping those massive wings.  He takes to the sky effortlessly, soaring into the endless blue horizon.  A single feather drifts back down; Logan reaches up to catch it, but as soon as his fingers make contact, the feather dissolves to dust.

 

 

Again and again, they meet.

Logan doesn’t always win, but then again, neither does his rival.  They’re infuriatingly well balanced, ‘a match made in heaven’, the angel joked once before dodging a fireball Logan lobbed at his head.  Logan did his best to remain civil, really, but terrible puns were a line even demons wouldn’t cross.

Logan growls at the angel as the infuriating do-gooder tries to persuade Thomas that taking time away from his work to watch Terrence’s performance would be  _‘Terre_ -fic!’

“He cannot possibly attend that performance and get his needed tasks done, angel.”  Logan straightens his tie aggressively, huffing out an exasperated breath.  “He needs to be selfish.”

“Now, now,” the angel tisks at him.  “You know how important this is to Terrence! And being selfish is just so mean.” 

He doesn’t seem to see the edge to Thomas, the agitation in the fluttering of his hands, the messy, unwashed hair.

Logan hisses, “It’s for his own good!  He can’t possibly keep all of this up!”

The angel pauses and looks at Thomas, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the false tint to his smile.  

“Please,” Logan says, hands clenched into trembling fists.

The angel chews his bottom lip uncertainty before slowly nodding, and Thomas apologizes, saying that he really can’t make it.

Logan relaxes infinitesimally, breathing out sulfur.  Before he can think better of it, he mutters, “Thank you, angel.”

The angel shakes his head and smiles, uncertainty fading away.  “I should be thanking you, Lo. I tend to get caught up in the whole… selfless part of it all. But I guess our little guy just needed some time to himself.”  He swings his legs over the windowsill and leans out, ready to fly away, but he pauses and turns over his shoulder.

Logan is struck by him as the moonlight shines off of his halo of golden curls, wings fully extended and shining a million different colors against the velvety night sky.  Logan is a hellbeast, an impure and filthy creature, but, at that moment, he can’t help but want  _more._

“And by the way?”  The angel smiles, and Logan is suddenly terrified that the warmth in his chest is no longer just sulfur and brimstone.  “My name is Patton.”

Patton pushes himself off of the window ledge, and he soars.

 

 

It’s a trap.

It’s hard to remember, what with the myriad of puns constantly lobbed, but Patton is a holy being.  A simple blessing from him could end Logan forever.  It’s merely the angel’s penchant for a fair playing ground that prevents the demon’s fiery demise.

Or, perhaps, he simply wanted to lure Logan in.

Angels are as ancient as demons, surely they are just as capable of playing the long game.  Surely, that Patton knows what he’s doing to Logan.  Surely, the angel knows how beautiful he is, how clever, how kind, and he is using his own allure to lead Logan astray.

Well, it won’t work.  Logan is nothing if not logical.  He’ll simply avoid these unpleasant… feelings and focus on his task: Thomas.

Easier said than done when his entire job description entails opposing the being he’s supposed to avoid.

As soon as he sees the bright edge of a feather, he dissolves into smoke and sulfur, whispering the faintest tendrils of thought directly into Thomas’s mind.

He grins as Thomas lies and cheats and does whatever it takes to be the best.  When Thomas starts to waver, to be good and honest and pure, and so infuriatingly  _Patton,_ Logan lashes his tail in anger and digs his claws in just a little bit deeper.

He is vigilant and, for a time, it works.

Not for long, however.

 

Logan is merely taking a rest for one moment, sitting invisibly on Thomas’s living room couch and eyeing the shelves of Lord Byron’s poetry when the angel suddenly appears in a frankly ostentatious heavenly glow and sounding of windchimes.

“Now why have you been avoiding me?”  Patton pouts at him, crossing his arms petulantly.  “You never call; you never write.”

“Neither of us have phones,” Logan points out lamely, still recovering from the dramatic arrival, “and I don’t think the postal service delivers to clouds.”

“Then I’ll send a raven!”  Patton proclaims proudly before frowning.  “Crow? Pigeon?”  He twists his mouth pensively.  “Something suitably sinister.”

Logan snorts, bringing up his mouth to muffle the sound, but, regardless, Patton’s eyes sparkle far too beautifully at the laugh.

“Is a pigeon your standard for sinister?”  Logan feels the edge of his mouth twitch up and does his best to fight it down.  “You really are an angel.”

“Ah, did the halo give me away?”  Patton laughs, coming to sit beside the demon.  “I thought it was  _ha-low_ -key.”

Logan furrows his brow.  “It was what now?”

“Low-key!”  Patton shimmies his shoulders in excitement.  “All the kiddos are saying it.”

 Logan mouths the word to himself, rolling it around on his tongue like a particularly delectable soul.  “Interesting.”

Patton starts to cross the room, but Logan rises, meeting him halfway.  As a strategic defence so he is not caught sitting down, of course.

They stand there, caught in each other’s path, both unwilling to move.

Patton smiles, eyes shining.  “Hi.”

“While I am aware that we skipped typical pleasantries, I was given to understand that they occur at the beginning of an exchange.”  The demon frowns.  “Did they change it on me again? I can never keep up with all these human customs.”

Patton laughs and shakes his head.  “Nah, you’re good, Lo. I was just breaking the silence.”

“Well, what’s wrong with silence?”  Logan counters.  “I find it rather pleasant.”

The angel huffs out a sigh, and if Logan didn’t know better, he would call that look fond.  “Of course you do.”

“It’s easier to keep unpleasantries swept under the metaphorical rug in the silence,” Logan explains, shrugging.  “Sometimes it’s better for things never to be spoken of.”

“Better?”  Patton tilts his head, eyes shining with that light.  “Or just easier?”

“Why can’t it be one and the same?”  Logan counters, unconsciously stepping closer to his challenger.  “What is easier for a human is better for them.”

“No way you can just say that about everything though!”  Patton protests, stepping forward in turn.  “What about all the stuff they work really hard for, huh? And all the stuff they… they really want” - Patton’s eyes darken, gaze drifting away from Logan - “even though fate’s against them.”

Logan starts, throat suddenly dry and stomach churning sulfur and fire.  “I… I suppose a number of factors must be considered in that case.”  He lists them off on his fingers.  “Viability of the proposal is crucial, as is a time frame in which it can be accomplished, and one must consider if they have all the available resources.”

“What about happiness?”  Patton asks, looking up and him and shifting closer.  The angel is a different warmth than the one Logan is accustomed to, glowing and soft instead of raging and scorching.  Logan shifts back slightly, suddenly afraid he’ll burn the angel.  “Is it worth it if it makes you happy?”

“Yes, I…”  Logan swallows, something in his chest twisting as he stands before Patton.  “I suppose that would be most vital.”

Patton reaches out and takes his hands.  “Yeah. I think so too.”

Patton is so, so warm, and Logan is filled with dread, wondering if he should regret this entire conversation.  Angels and demons don’t fraternize for a reason.

“Sometimes silence is better,” Logan whispers again, hands tingling in Patton’s grasp.  This time, however, he isn’t quite sure he’s right.  “It makes my job infinitesimally easier.”

“So…”  Patton squints his eyes, tilting his head.  “Not that much?”

Logan blinks.  “What?”

“Infinitesimal means really small.”

“How do  _you_  know that?”

“I know big words!”  Patton grins.  “Like… saxophone.”

“Incredible,” Logan says dryly, “However do you come about this exquisite knowledge?”

“It comes from upstairs.”  The soft, clear rustling of feathers fills the air as Patton shakes out his wings.  “Angel, remember?”

“Yes, I do.”  Bitterness seeps into Logan’s voice as he pulls his hands away.  “You are undeniably an angel.”

Patton catches his eyes trailing the long sweep of the angel’s wings for just a bit too long.  “You can touch them if you want.”

“No,” Logan says stiffly.  “I’d rather not.”

Patton blinks those heaven blue eyes at him slowly but doesn’t press the issue.  “Okay, I was just offering.”  He laughs.  “You know I never have a plan when it comes to talking.”

Logan narrows his eyes.  “Don’t you dare-”

“I really just  _wing_  it!”

The demon hisses, tail lashing furiously.  “Why must you murder the English language?”

The angel giggles.  _“Ego iam occidi Latine.”_  He grins, bright and easy, as Logan ignores the way it turns his stomach to water.  “It’s a dead language after all!”

Logan stares at the floor and wonders if it’s too late to return to hell.  It’d be vastly more pleasant than this.

 “Aww,”  Patton cooes, stepping closer.  “Am I ruffling your feathers?”

“I don’t have feathers,” Logan says, a tad too sharply.  Patton jerks back, and Logan softens his tone apologetically.  “You seem to forget I’m a demon, Patton.”

Patton shrugs.  “Nope! I could never forget anything about you.”

He grins as the demon blinks rapidly, trying to unravel that particular statement.  “I’ll see ya, Lo.”  The angel steps into the windowsill, wings stretching out as his head tilts up to catch the moonlight in his eyes.

“Wait,” Logan blurts before he can stop himself, and Patton turns, smiling patiently.

“Yes, Lo?”

“Can I…”  Logan straightens his tie like he wishes he could his words, soothing himself with the familiar motion.  “I would be pleased if I were… permitted to - not to say that you must, but nevertheless I would be amenable if I could -”

Patton takes mercy on him, as angels are prone to do, and fans out his massive wings.  They practically glow in the silver moonlight, so many colors caught in each feather that Logan’s head almost swims.

Logan reaches out, almost unconsciously, but suddenly stops, remembering what happened last time he tried to touch the angel’s feathers.

His eyes widen, and he steps back, shaking his head.  “Forgive me. This was a foolish exercise. The risk of harm to you is too great, and I could never bear -”

“Logan” - Patton reaches out and clasps one of Logan’s hands in both of his, bringing it up to rest against his chest - “I’ll be okay; I promise.”

Logan scans Patton’s eyes for any sign of nerves, but he simply finds that strange warmth.

Pushing away hesitation, Logan cautiously reaches out and strokes his clawed fingers across the angel’s iridescent-white plumage.  Patton shivers, the hair on his arms standing up and a flush spreading across his cheeks.  Logan could swear that his fingers tingle where they touch the angel.

Well, the tingling is probably the divine order of the universe trying to burn him alive for desecrating a holy being but, eh, whatever.

He stares at Patton’s wings as his claws glide so gently across them, savoring the silky softness, and the angel recognizes the hunger behind his eyes.  “Do you miss them?”  Patton asks softly.  “Your wings?”

Logan immediately snatches his hands away and snarls.  “No,” he says tersely, turning around and disappearing into a mass of shadows and smoke before the idiot can say any other mindless drivel.  

His shoulders shake as he reappears in the lush penthouse he had charmed his way into before throwing the owner of it out a window.  Suicide really is such a tragic epidemic these days.

Logan’s trench coat aches against his raw, burnt flesh, still painful after all these eons.  He doesn’t miss his wings.  What a ridiculous concept.  They’re right there, wrapped around his back and cradling the edges of his chest.  He shrugs off the garment and his shirt, gingerly flexing emaciated muscles.  A lightning-hot strike of pain sizzles across his back, and he stifles a cry.  That’s still a no then.

Logan shakes his head at his own childish actions and pads into the bathroom.  He splashes cold water in his face, trying to revive himself.  He looks up and catches his reflection in the mirror, eyeing his features as if they belong to a stranger.  Those shriveled, ancient monstrosities on his back certainly do.

His skin crackles like ancient leather when he tries to move him, and the pain is almost unbearable.  It’s better to forget about what once was wings.

But no matter how hard he tries, Logan can never quite forget the way it felt to fly.

 

  
His and Patton’s arguments these days have become less _divine beings destined to eternally oppose each other in the battle for souls_ and more  _exasperated parents trying to decide the right path for their son._

“He can’t get rid of them, Lo!”  Patton whines.  “They’re his old drawings from when he was little!”

“And they’re useless now.”  Logan pinches the bridge of his nose.  “Unless you want him to be a hoarder, Patton.”  He smirks.  “Besides, I thought gluttony was a deadly sin?”

The angel narrows his eyes.  “That’s your territory!  I know what you’re up to down there; I read Danish’s Inferno.”

“Dante’s.”

“Bless you.”

“I certainly hope you don’t.”  Logan snorts, wincing at the very thought.  “I find being whole and unscathed is vastly preferable to the alternative.”

Patton laughs that infuriating sound of heaven’s bells.  “That’s not what I meant, silly. I’d never hurt you.”

Logan stills at that, looking at Patton.  “No,” he says softly, and it is a revelation.  “You wouldn’t, would you?”

The angel gazes back at the demon, a small smile flickering at the corners of his lips.  “No,” Patton says, taking Logan’s hand and squeezing it gently.  “I wouldn’t.”

After a moment, Logan squeezes back.  “Thank you.”  He isn’t sure what, exactly, he is thanking the being next to him for.  Companionship?  A challenge?  Sparing him?  This thing, this warmth in his chest that burns as brightly as hellfire yet is cleaner, purer?  Just for being Patton?

For a moment, they look at each other, that warmth in each of their eyes.

Neither of them are sure who leans in first, but their lips meet.  The warmth in Logan’s chest spreads, grows and grows and grows.

For the second time in as long as he can remember, Logan burns.

 

It happens one day, much later, when Logan is sitting in his apartment, reading.  A soft tapping comes from the balcony, and he narrows his eyes, setting down his book and preemptively extending his claws.  He’s been waiting for this day ever since he and Patton first felt those tuggings in their chest, that irrational, illogical, wonderful feeling that would make them defy the sacred laws of the universe.  They’re going to try to drag him down to Hell, never to see those sky-blue eyes again, but Logan will not go down without a fight.

With a single kick, he sends the door flying off of its hinges and towards whatever unfortunate soul lies in its path.

“Woah! Watch it there, Lo!”  It is Patton, swooping off of Logan’s balcony to avoid the projectile.  The angel grins.  “I know you’re a-door-able, but this is ridiculous.”

“Patton!”  Logan exclaims.  “What are you doing here?”  He straightens his tie in aggravation, scowling at the wreckage of the door.  “I could’ve hurt you?”

“Sure, let’s go with that story.”  Patton snorts then laughs, hovering about ten feet off of the balcony.  “What, you didn’t get my sinister pigeon message?”

“No.”  Logan feels the corner of his mouth twitch up.  “I did not. Try a raven next time.”

Patton just shakes his head, alight with some radiant joy.  “No need for a next time, Logan! We’re going.”

“What?”  Logan starts as he realizes Patton is pointing heavenward.

“Come on, Lo.”  Patton smiles at him, shining.  “Let’s go.”

Logan shakes his head and backs away from the ledge, a painful pulsing trapped at the base of his throat.  “I can’t.”  His wings hang on his back - raw, burned, and useless weights.

“Yes,” Patton assures him, hovering just beyond Logan’s reach.  “You can.”

“I’m damned, Patton!”  Logan snaps.  “I turned my back on heaven, and this is what it got me. I can’t go with you.”

Oh, but he wants to.  He aches with the wanting, the longing to spread his burned wings again, to fly into that velvety night until he can so clearly see the stars he loves.  He wants to chase Patton through the black, yet never lose sight of his angel in the darkness.  He wants to sit on a cloud and watch the world pass by him.

Logan wants to fly again.

“Trust me,” Patton says.

Logan’s heart thuds.  “What of those I betrayed? What will they do?” he demands, voice trembling.  “What of your God?”

Patton smiles.  “He forgives. It’s kinda the whole point.”

His adrenaline spikes as Logan steps over the railing, teetering on the edge of his balcony.  “Really?”

“I promise.”  Patton holds out his hand.  “Come on, Lo. They’re waiting on us.”

Logan expects to be afraid as he lets go of the railing behind him, for his hands to shake and his limbs to tremble.  Logan expects to scream and to fall, to burn, to suffer.

But he is not, and he does not.

Patton smiles.  “It’s okay.”

Logan takes Patton’s hand, and he soars.

**Author's Note:**

> Find @ierindoodles 's BEAUTIFUL art for this piece [here](https://ierindoodles.tumblr.com/post/179226008284/13-days-of-halloween-day-one-demon-read)


End file.
